There are just so many wonderful things about the IVF process that I can only consider this obscene weight gain to be the icing on the infertility cake.
I knew it would happen. They warned me. And what does one expect really, with the exercise ban, the hormone injections, and, well... the stress-triggered binges on saltines and Nestle semi- sweet chocolate morsels?
I had made my peace with the idea of jiggly thighs, expanding ass, and dangling breasts. When I could no longer coax my favorite jeans over my hips, I shrugged, smiled, and went shopping. When I found I had to buy 3 sizes larger than my wedding day size (a mere 1 1/2 years ago), I sighed and moved on to checkout.
But, yesterday something happened that made my weight gain hit me like a fat- fingered slap in the face.
One of my husband's favorite past- times is bending my appendages in directions they are not designed to go, and asking, "Does this hurt?" He also enjoys pressing his index finger into the hollow of my throat until I cough like my cat with a hairball.
(I assure you, this is not abuse, but simply the slightly sadistic, very warped, sense of humor of a man whose formative years were spent learning martial arts and tormenting his little sister)
Anyway, he also gets a rise out of pressing his fingers into my sides, just above my hips and below my waist. This is fun for him as it generally results in me pleading for him to stop between peals of unsupressible laughter.
Yesterday, he tried this last little trick, and I braced myself for the pain/ tickles.
He pressed harder. Still nothing, except that his fingers sank deeper into my pillowy flesh.
I'm too fat for tickling.
Maybe it will dull the pain of the injection needles too?